


Mephistopheles

by softhuangs (yoonooh)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Setting, Brief mentions of blood and violence, Deviance, Homophobia, M/M, Religious Symbols, Sexual Content, liberal use of metaphoric descriptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 15:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoonooh/pseuds/softhuangs
Summary: “But you,” Jaehyun says, leaning in to nose at Doyoung’s jaw, one hand still firmly holding onto Doyoung’s necklace and the other a warm sensation on his waist, “you’re different. You’re scared too, but you're not scared of me. You’re scared of yourself for wanting me.”The words make Doyoung moan.In which Jaehyun moves into town and Doyoung finally learns what it feels like to sin with bravery





	Mephistopheles

**Author's Note:**

> uh so the beginning may be somewhat slow because i wanted to build up the story and delve into the main character first before letting dojae meet,, the good shit™ (albeit debatable) will come so please hold on and do read warnings! it's not too serious but i want to be cautious hehe 
> 
> also, english is not my first language, so please excuse any awkward phrases or incorrect grammar shjshsjsh i've read through this so many times my eyes probably can no longer detect any errors

His life begins in the middle of nowhere. For as long as Doyoung can remember, he has been in this town. Each passing moment is inertial. It is where time seems to have stopped running. It has been a challenge growing up as much as it is a challenge coming to the realization that he is anchored, attached to a place that holds no soul and tolerates no deviance. A quaint town that paints the picture of an idyllic life - the start of every perfect story - until you live long enough to watch the most beautiful colors turn gaudy and eventually bleed into a morbid gray. It is where dreams are buried under flat tires and hopes trapped in an eternal cycle of impossibility and conformity.

Although it seems peculiar that no one has ever shown signs of objection, let alone questioned the conformity, Doyoung has learned the hard way that in this town, being normal is accepted but being human is not. That is why he has taught himself to reduce the slight sliver of child-like eagerness bubbling within him to an unnoticeable throb. He obediently keeps his mouth shut. A soul that does not belong is to be discarded; Doyoung pretends to paint himself a palette of monochrome to blend into the dull background, and bites his tongue together with a smile, the corners of his curled-up lips freezing into something stale and forlorn. In this place where no one is strangers to one another, despite the serenity and the nature, the eyes watching are plenty. They silently observe. There is a cold, eerie sensation running down your spine even when you step out into the sun because they are hidden there, behind the shadows.

He looks on helplessly as his dreams are trampled on like a lit cigarette, watching as the smoke fizzles out until all that is left is the remainder of a life trapped in this place. He plays skipping stones at the lake and watches as they sink, bringing with them his wishes and desires. One stone piles onto another, and another, and the river bottom is filled up with the aspect of a different life beyond his reach. His secrets are piled under neat homework papers, his sins buried beneath his radiant, angelic smile. He has learned to cover up his trails in a way that does not draw attention, and most times, he pretends as if his weaknesses do not exist.

He turns away from attractive eyes, away from rough hands and deep timbres. Pretends he does not feel his heart pick up in pace. Pretends all he sees is a pretty smile and long hair fluttering in the passing breeze. The crucifix hanging around his neck serves as a reminder. He’s been a sinner ever since his first kiss, but it’s not difficult to soak in the daydream of a pure mind uncorrupted. A life devoted to Him. Whether that turns out to be a divine or a devil, Doyoung wants to know.

Deviance is the act of violating the social rules and regulations. Each group of individuals has the power to create their own specific set of values. Despite them being deemed as deviant, their own norms function as a protecting shield that gives them a sense of belonging and an identity. Within the group, those who follow the norms are viewed as normal and those who do not are the different ones. It is called deviant subcultures, and Doyoung understands somehow that he is a part of it.

When another summer has yet to be gone, making way for autumn with its nostalgia and fallen leaves littering the ground, it gets both harder and easier to fall into the familiar routine of being the perfect child. He looks on as whatever that is left of the passing season disappear in the reflection of his parents’ eyes, and instead, it is replaced by an indifference that burns greater than any anger, any sadness. The suffocating silence hanging around their dinner table turns more evident. The only thing they ask about is his grades and school. That is what they have always truly cared about. Be a model student with a clean record and stellar grades. Graduate. Enroll in university. Become someone, but never stand out too much, especially not in a way that would make people whisper obnoxiously. This is what normal people do, at least in this town.

Whenever that happens, the pile of empty white packs hidden in the bottom of his backpack grows in number. When he inhales the taste of nicotine and feels the smoke clouding his lungs, until the point where he almost feels light-headed, it is also when he finally can release the breath he has been holding all day long. His rigid shoulders sag slightly at the familiar movement. It is the only thing giving him what he desires the most - freedom.

There are only few places where he could afford the risk of doing it, and even fewer people who would sell and not tattle. For him, freedom comes in short-lived moments standing on tiptoe, in fear of someone making their way up to the school’s rooftop or rounding that one shady-looking corner down the street. His life starts and ends in those moments that send adrenaline rushing through his body, and he takes whatever he can get.

 

 

When there are way too many observing eyes and whispers going around, because gossip is the only thing that thrives in the deepest corners of their dreary souls, it does not come as a surprise when Doyoung starts hearing the name Jaehyun shortly after the latter had moved to town. Doyoung supposes he could not care less whether Jaehyun’s family is one less person than what it should be, but the judgemental look in his classmates’ eyes as they talk about how Jaehyun’s father had left them for another woman is enough to give Doyoung a headache, his breathing coming out unevenly to match the irregular pounding in his head.

It is funny, he thinks, how they are talking lightly about the matter when their families are the exemplary picture of a marriage turned stale, their fathers disappearing for days on end for some _business_ out of town and their mothers’ smiles always a little too plastic and a whole lot dull. But he has learned that life is when you pretend your life is not crumbling down by pitying someone else’s misfortunes instead. This is how everyone in this place lives.

However, Jaehyun stands out. It is not his family situation that makes Doyoung sit and listen for a few seconds longer, eyes trained on the book in front of him but mind no longer paying attention. It is who he is that draws him in. Or rather, the rumors about him. Even when they are taken with a pinch of salt, Doyoung cannot deny the spark of intrigue flaring within him. Curiosity feels like a disease.

There is a rough side to Jaehyun, is what Doyoung gets out of eavesdropping. A broken nose, fractured ribs, scars and lots of blood. Nothing Doyoung would prefer to be giving or given, but then again, he guesses whoever was on the receiving end of those merciless punches deserves it for running his mouth. Jaehyun seems like the type who has a little too much of compressed anger flowing in his veins, on the verge of bursting if carelessly provoked. The incident that happened just days after him arriving in town has stirred up a commotion amongst the town inhabitants, everyone fearing the reckless actions of a fatherless boy. They say, because they know, that someone like him no longer has anything to lose.

Days after having heard his name for the very first time, Doyoung ends up spotting an unfamiliar face upon passing by the town square. It is a weekend, the sun shining yet the cold air a lingering presence. He looks up from the path he is walking on at the sound of a gust of wind twirling the dead, yellow leaves around, and he sees him. The moment is rather anticlimactic, because in a small place like this, they are bound to meet sooner or later anyways. Jaehyun is looking down at the beautiful, middle-aged woman walking side by side with him, a tender smile on his lips mirroring hers. There are deep dimples, sunken on his cheeks. If Doyoung has not heard anything to begin with, if Doyoung has not noticed the bruises scattered on Jaehyun’s face, he would have almost called him harmless. He decides to do that nonetheless.

For a moment, Doyoung thinks about what they say. That Jaehyun is dangerous and out for blood. That his gaze is that of a beast when he hits, eyes not wavering once. He decides that he should not be the one to decide who Jaehyun is. Then, something that someone has said in the passing by floats up to the surface.

”He is not afraid of anything. It shows when he speaks his mind and does whatever he wants. Clearly, he doesn’t belong here amongst us. He is deviant.”

A deviant in this socially-fixed place. Still, Jaehyun only seems content as he walks arm in arm with his mother, as if he is not the current subject of everyone’s sting eye or gossip. Doyoung wonders if this is how it feels to lose to a stranger. How could he claim to be different from everyone else when he is scared of everything Jaehyun does not shy away from? He fears a rejection from this place, fears being the target of the attention like Jaehyun, but so does everyone. Perhaps he is exactly the same. Sometimes, he just likes to pretend he is not. The newly bought cigarette packet lies heavily in the pocket of his jacket. He absent-mindedly closes his fingers around it, a sound reminder of the life he is hiding.

Quickening his steps in order to avoid letting Jaehyun, or anyone else for that matter, spot him, Doyoung ducks his head and tries to cross the square as discreetly as possible. There is no one else in the early morning except for the three of them, but Doyoung cannot afford to take any risk that would result in imploring questions or disappointed looks. However, he is a beat too late. When he chances one last glance in Jaehyun’s direction, he sees the other staring right back at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Jaehyun’s beauty is breathtaking; Doyoung can see it despite them standing dozens of feet apart. Doyoung, putting on an indifferent facade even with his heart thumping loudly, turns away and hurries the last few steps out of there.

 

 

Soon enough, Jaehyun enrolls in his school. It does not come as a shock, because there is only one high school in this town, but the students still share wide-eyed looks upon the actual sight of Jaehyun walking on the school ground, heading towards the building. He stands out, as ever, with the school blazer thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. His chocolate hair is prominent under the sunlight, a unique color amongst the endless sea of black.

Some people look at him with something akin to subtle fear, eyes darting away the moment he returns the gaze. Others blatantly stare in distaste. Doyoung is one of the few who have chosen to look on with no emotions involved. He has not been able to stop thinking about Jaehyun’s gaze ever since that morning, and he tries not to give himself a reason to do that even more, no matter how intriguing Jaehyun seems to be.

In a way, even the teachers are afraid of him. Although Doyoung notices the look his homeroom teacher wears upon seeing Jaehyun’s outer appearance, she refrains from voicing her opinions aloud, opting to introduce him in an unsettled voice to the class. A long silence spreads throughout the room, and Doyoung can almost see a smirk appearing at the corner of Jaehyun’s mouth. He fights a shiver, not because he is scared, but because it is hard to admit that Jaehyun looks a thousand times better this way. Standing beneath the harsh fluorescent light, something akin to mirth dancing on his lips.

Jaehyun never ends up being reprimanded by the adults. He becomes the only exception of deviance allowed in this building.

The familiar name gets spread even to his own house that Doyoung almost believes it is an induced hallucination. It is during a mundane dinner that his mother brings up the things she has heard from the neighbors. His parents talk about Jaehyun as if they know him personally. As if they have the rights to judge him for who he is. Doyoung thinks it is rather ironic how they are doing this, when he is seated at the same table as them. Imagine their expressions if they were to know. That their son breathes smoke as if it is air, and dreams about kissing boys in his wildest fantasies. Suddenly, Doyoung feels the urge to make that happen, but the rational part of his mind is stronger this time around.

At some point during the dinner, his mother turns to him with a frown. “Doesn’t that Jaehyun go to school? Is he in your class?”

Doyoung nods, watching as her eyes widen in horror. Before she could add anything, he adds tentatively, “I haven’t talked to him, though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She looks pleased at the reassurance, but worry is yet etched onto her features.

“Don’t let him get close to you,” she says. “You can’t afford to drop a grade in any subjects, and you shouldn’t hang around people like him either. Tell me if he ever bothers you.”

Quietly, Doyoung thinks about how right she is when she implies that Jaehyun could be bothering him. But it is only in his own consciousness. Jaehyun is only a constant in his own mind. He also wonders about how much of a bad influence Jaehyun could actually be, since Doyoung is already ruined from the start. A speck of dirty black on a stained canvas. Add another one, and it would not make a huge difference.

 

 

Doyoung jostles awake in the middle of the night to the sound of a lonely owl howling outside his window, his mind craving for a smoke in its hazy state. He had dreamed of dimples and a crooked smile, and wills his heart to stop racing when he realizes there is only one person that fits the description.

The night is rather chilly when he secretly tiptoes down the stairs, past the hallway and out into the open air, cigarette and lighter held firmly in his grip. With the rumbling silence as sole company, he walks a few blocks down the street until he turns into a familiar empty dead end behind a local store. Usually there is a neon sign placed at the back, making it easier to see in the dark. It is pitch black today however, so Doyoung strains his ears for any sounds. There are none, except for that of the owl that fades away in the background as the wind blows slightly, ruffling his hair.

He is about to light the cigarette already put in between his lips, when the flame gives him a quick view of the otherwise dark surrounding and he startles visibly at the figure slumped down against the wall opposite to where he is standing, sharp eyes fixated on him. It becomes dark again as Doyoung immediately puts out the fire, his heart thumping rapidly against his ribcage. The sound of his heavy breathing, though, that is something he cannot put a stop to. It intensifies when he racks his mind, realizing who that gaze belongs to.

In that moment, the neon sign comes back to life. His eyes adjust to see Jaehyun in the sudden brightness; his breath hitches upon noticing that the boy has not stopped looking at him. Gradually, Doyoung still as tense as ever, gets his muscles to move again and he shifts on his feet, quickly shoving the cigarette and the lighter into his pocket, although he knows that they are both aware what he is trying to hide. Jaehyun looks amused. Doyoung feels a cold sweat on his back.

“A high school student smoking in secret? I didn’t think I would get to witness that. Not in this town.”

This is the first time they have ever talked, but no matter how Doyoung’s mind has imagined the scene countless times before, it was not this type of encounter. There is something mocking in Jaehyun’s voice, which is justified. Doyoung is no better than the other students who stare at Jaehyun as if he is a monster; yet here they are, Doyoung the one holding the cigarette and not the other way around.

He lets the fear of the town waking up tomorrow to the news of him being caught smoking in the dead of the night sink into him. It overwhelms the joy of imagining the shock on his parents’ faces. Perhaps he wants to revel in their misery at learning about their son’s true nature, but he is not sure if he can handle rejection from this place where he has grown up in. Whereas Jaehyun is tough, Doyoung is raised reluctant and always a little afraid.

“Please,” Doyoung whispers, knowing Jaehyun would hear him in this silence, “don’t tell anyone.”

A long moment goes by. “And why should I?”

To be honest, Doyoung expects it. It does not mean he feels any better. When he carefully scrutinizes Jaehyun, whose skin is a violet color under the stark light, he suddenly sees crimson red running a thin line on his cheek and smeared across his one hand. Somewhere higher up on the wall Jaehyun has sat down against, there is a noticeable spot in the same shade, red dripping down until it dries off against cement. He pins his gaze on Jaehyun as not to focus on imagining the details of what that happened. Yet, strangely enough, Doyoung does not feel the need to run away, and he gets more scared of himself when his mind tells him to step closer.

He does not. Instead of coming up with a way to convince Jaehyun, his mouth runs on its own. “You’re hurt.”

Even miniscule, Doyoung notices the way Jaehyun’s body freezes at his words. His hand balls into a tight fist, knuckles white as chalk.

“Why? Are you scared?”

Fascinated? Yes. And maybe a little intimidated at the unplanned confrontation, but Doyoung is everything but scared. Briefly, he wonders if this is bravery or deformity. In the long silence that ensues, Jaehyun waits for an answer. In lieu of a reply, Doyoung turns around before he can second guess himself, casting a glance at the boy behind him.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Doyoung says in the darkness. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Jaehyun stays put, less because of Doyoung’s order but more because of his worn out state. His eyes narrow in question at Doyoung who returns and steps even closer. But he keeps quiet, his uneven breathing revealing the fatigue coursing through his body. Clearing his throat, Doyoung drops the things he took from his bathroom just minutes ago, when his ears were straining to catch the sound of his father snoring as a signal to keep moving around. Jaehyun’s eyes flicker widely from the band-aids and the tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol up to Doyoung’s face. This time around, Doyoung is unable to read his expression, just like the first time he saw him.

He did not assume Jaehyun would be kind enough to exchange his secret for some mere band-aids; he simply did what his impulses led him to do in that precise moment. It did not sit right with him to let Jaehyun sit there, dried blood on his body. In the silence he is met with, Doyoung slumps down beside Jaehyun, head lolling against the wall. In a way, he hopes to convey the unspoken message that he is not scared of Jaehyun. Not in the way the other kids are. Not in the way the adults are. Neither does he think Jaehyun is revolting.

Jaehyun may be different, but so is Doyoung. That is enough reason for Doyoung not to put any deliberate distance between them.

He lights his cigarette, yet afraid of the aspect of tomorrow but no longer having the energy to care. In his peripheral vision, he feels Jaehyun’s gaze on him. The moment he returns it, he understands that his message has come across. There is a profound feeling flowing in his veins, overwhelming the cigarette smoke in his lungs. He breathes out in the dark as the neon sign flickers, hearing a sharp inhale from the person to his right.

“I don’t have an extra, sorry,” Doyoung mutters, waving the cigarette in the air. However, Jaehyun shakes his head, hands fidgeting with a band-aid.

“I don’t smoke.”

It is rather surprising to hear that. On instinct, Doyoung’s mind wanders to the stories that he has heard, and he asks himself how much of them is true.

“You were the one I saw some weeks ago in the town square right?” Jaehyun asks, startling Doyoung because he remembers. Doyoung has believed that the only one who remembers the encounter is himself, the image of a fleeting eye contact flitting across his mind.

He hums, turning his head to catch Jaehyun’s eyes. “I was buying the cigarettes.”

Understanding dawns onto Jaehyun’s face, one eyebrow raised. He is possibly thinking back about that morning, probably wondering how Doyoung even gets his hands on them to begin with. But it feels too intimate of a moment to be asking further questions, so Jaehyun lets silence settle over the both of them.

The light is yet flickering when Doyoung’s cigarette has burned down to ashes. He stands up, dusting his pants, and musters a quick goodbye at the boy still perched on the ground behind him. They do not say anything more. It is when he has settled into his bed for the second time that night, that he realizes Jaehyun neither used the things given to him nor did he ask for Doyoung’s name.

 

 

No one regards him with disappointment in their eyes the next morning in school. In fact, it feels like any normal school days. Except it is not, because the feeling of Jaehyun’s stare and of solid cement against his head is too real, too intense to pass it off as a mere figment of his imagination.

Doyoung looks away when their gazes graze in the stuffy classroom, pretending to study the trees outside the window instead. For now, he is grateful that Jaehyun has not mentioned anything to anyone, but it does not necessarily mean he would grant him this favor forever. After a beat, Doyoung realizes that his mind has missed an important detail. When he nonchalantly glances at Jaehyun, he notices the familiar band-aid on his cheek. He forms his hand into a fist in his lap, inhaling. It burns, his chest constricting to the images of his dream last night - the one that got him wide awake in a sweat with a speeding heart.

Doyoung is convinced he would rather be caught smoking than to be caught in his fantasies about Jaehyun, whose knowing eyes sparkle even in the pitch black of the night. His attraction to him is as fragile as it is profound, and Doyoung does not want anyone to peek into whatever is of it.

Somehow, Jaehyun seems to catch the drift the first time Doyoung avoids his eyes. He does not spare Doyoung a glance again, and returns to become the deviant in the school. He never eats in the cafeteria, and arrives late to every lesson, albeit a habit ignored by every teacher. There is always another cut, another bruise - a remnant of his flaring temper - on him, but Doyoung does not dare to look too closely. Instead, he listens to his classmates speculating about the backstory of Jaehyun’s wounds as he reads his book. He does his homework, solves the problems and finishes the essays, but his mind is constantly, ceaselessly hooked to the thought of someone else.

Like a miracle, however, he manages to uphold his grades by the time midterms roll around. His parents look satisfied, but never too pleased. Doyoung puts on a sweet smile of a dutiful son, and feels his fingers itch for another smoke.

 

 

Doyoung was in his last year in middle school when he found out that he likes kissing boys. Not that he did not have his suspicions before that, but it was difficult to differentiate between curiosity and want when it was not something he could easily experiment with. The boy was beautiful. His golden, tan skin shone in the afternoon sun when he backed Doyoung against the wall of the school’s backside and trapped him in with his arms. Back then, Doyoung had yet to hit his final growth spurt, still shorter than most boys in his class. Therefore, this boy loomed over him, eyes staring down on him. Whenever he thinks back to that day, he understands the intensity in those eyes. However, they were both too young, wandering gaze still grasping at reality, to realize their actions and what was to follow.

The moment their lips met, Doyoung saw stars. He decided that he could never go back to thinking about girls, when being with a boy could feel this good. It was sinful and Doyoung wanted to bask in the feeling a little longer. When they parted, there was a smile grazing both of their lips. Doyoung savored the moment, the sight of the boy standing under the bright sun bringing hidden warmth washing over him.

But the joy was short-lived. The boy got caught not long after, and everywhere he went, people pointed their fingers. Despite the young age, no one spared their harsh words. He got shunned in the very place that held him together. Eventually, he broke down, incapable of staying the same cheerful person he used to be and his family moved away soon enough, leaving behind the scorching reminder of what happens to a deviant being caught in this town. Doyoung felt bad for him, felt bad for losing something that never even properly started to begin with, but he felt incredibly worse when he realized that the emotion prevailing within him was relief. His twisted mind found comfort in the fact that at least, it was not _him_. When he knew of the existence of the devil residing in his thoughts, he locked his bedroom door and willed the bile rising in his throat to go down.

From that moment onwards, for the sake of the other and for himself, he swore to be careful. Even if he gets found doing something outrageous that could make him an outcast forever, having feelings for someone he should not be with is the last thing on that list.

 

 

The weather turns colder that day. It is not to the point of fingertips becoming blue, but it is enough for Doyoung to shiver periodically where he sits, perched on the ground on the school rooftop. He stays hidden from the door, giving himself enough time to discard the cigarette in case someone comes up here. No one has ever done that, though, so Doyoung never finds the need to stay as guarded. The autumn weather also works its wonder at keeping people away from the bare rooftop. Yet, it is that same thing that carries Doyoung’s feet up here. The cold, fresh air mixed with cigarette smoke makes his head spin. He likes the lightheadedness it brings.

Jaehyun arrives unexpectedly, almost like how he had appeared in this town and shifted it upside down with his antics. At the sound of the door opening, Doyoung accidentally drops the cigarette in fright, blinking fervently as it rolls out into plain sight. Quietly, he curses whoever stands at the door, until he hears someone speak up.

“Who’s there?”

It is a familiar voice, indeed, and the adrenaline runs out of him almost right away. He peeks out from his hiding place, an awkward smile on his lips as he waves at Jaehyun.

“I had a hunch that it would be you,” Jaehyun shrugs, approaching Doyoung. “Though I didn’t want to call your name in case I accidentally oust you.”

Doyoung ignores the butterflies in his chest at Jaehyun’s words, wondering how Jaehyun knows his name when he never had the chance to share it with him. Vaguely, he entertains the thought that the interest could be mutual, but he shoos it away soon after. Instead, he hums gratefully as he picks up his cigarette again, dusting it off before taking a drag. He sees Jaehyun stare back at him in his half-clouded vision, but all he can focus on is Jaehyun’s lips. It pains him to look away before he can deeply delve into how those lips would feel against his.

“Why do we keep meeting like this?” Doyoung questions, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He partly means it though. It is not as if he does not want to see him, but it gets unsettling when Jaehyun keeps catching Doyoung holding a cigarette. Jaehyun lets out a sweet laugh, white smoke visible in the air.

“It’s different though. You almost pissed yourself that night, when it was only the two of us,” Jaehyun begins, voice dripping with mirth, “but now you’re smoking in a place filled with hundreds of students? You’re something else.”

That renders him a little speechless. Doyoung rolls his eyes as the crooked smile on Jaehyun’s face brightens.

“What did you come up here for?”

“Do I need a reason for being here?”

The intensity in Jaehyun’s eyes is a star. It culminates and then it dims. Doyoung takes another drag. “No, I guess. I was simply curious. I’m here pretty much all the time but it’s my first time seeing you here.”

Jaehyun snorts. “Why are you suddenly curious after having pretended to not know me for weeks? It’s almost funny how hard you try not to meet my eyes in class, Doyoung.”

Knowing fully well Jaehyun is only being snarky, Doyoung’s throat still closes up nonetheless, choked by his own guilt. He almost misses his name leaving the other’s lips, head a whirlwind of loud thoughts. Truth to be told, he is aware that there is no good reason for him to treat Jaehyun as if they are complete strangers who shall forever remain that way. After all, he likes Jaehyun better than he does any of his classmates. And yet, the ones he spends his lunch breaks with, the ones he talks to during lessons, none of them is Jaehyun.

Doyoung lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.”

That is all he has to offer. Up above him, Jaehyun is silent as a breeze blows by, ruffling their hair. Doyoung keeps his eyes trained on the ground, tracing invisible patterns on gray cement. After some seconds, he hears a light hum. Jaehyun settles down next to him, their arms touching. He barely coughs even when the smoke that Doyoung exhales fills the space between them.

“What are you so afraid of?” Jaehyun is a fresh breath in his nicotine stained lungs. Aware of his eyes on him, Doyoung’s breath hitches.

He rannsacks his brain for a reason, finding some good ones but not the courage to spell them aloud. For as long as he can remember, he has been in this hellhole. There is nowhere else he can imagine himself in. It is why he is afraid, because one mistake could cut him off from this familiar place that anchors him. And yet, he is also scared of freedom. One that only knows of one thing their whole life becomes nothing but a fool without it. It feels unfit to tell this to Jaehyun, however. He probably cannot fully understand the extent of Doyoung’s rooted fear, not when he has not grown up here.

“Too many things,” Doyoung says simply. He adds as an afterthought, “but you’re not one of them.”

Jaehyun continues to stare by the time Doyoung has finished his cigarette. He looks like he is trying to unravel every layer that makes up Doyoung in an attempt to see through him. The air suddenly feels too warm for this weather, skin hot against skin even with layers of clothes between them. There is a new bruise above Jaehyun’s eyebrow. Doyoung looks at it instead of Jaehyun’s eyes.

He makes a move to stand up, but is stopped when Jaehyun grabs his wrist. It is not a strong grip, but firm enough to make Doyoung freeze, his heart racing. He sees. Sees the way Jaehyun stares at his lips, gaze darkening.

All of a sudden, Doyoung is thrown back into his younger days, eyes too naive for this merciless world. The muffled crying sound of the golden boy echoes in his mind, dousing him in a nostalgic wave of fear. He sees the look in Jaehyun’s eyes reflected in the boy’s, this time a little more fierce and more sinful. It was the same look the boy had before he had leaned in, stealing Doyoung’s first kiss. The consequences of that one action were too agonizing. It is a scar that reopens when Jaehyun looks at him that way.

Purposefully, he turns his head away and in the exhale that follows, he understands that the moment is broken. They are back to being two high school students. But Jaehyun does not release his fingers wrapped around Doyoung’s wrist until he says, “Don’t smoke too often. It’s not good for you.”

It is funny how Jaehyun cares, when Doyoung desperately wishes for the tar to drown him anytime soon.

 

 

It gets easier to pretend after that. Doyoung goes about his days as he has always done. He avoids the rooftop, avoids Jaehyun’s lingering eyes when the latter thinks Doyoung is not paying attention. The attraction that he has felt only grows in the palpable space between the both of them, and it pains him having to push it further into the hidden crevices of his mind.

Nothing changes when it comes to Jaehyun. He gets into his fights and sleeps during lessons. Sometimes, Doyoung would be at the town square in the middle of the day, running errands for his mother, and he would spot Jaehyun. If he is lucky, Jaehyun does not notice him, his eyes solely on the woman whom he seems to cherish dearly. Other times, though, they make eye contact and Doyoung is always the first one to look away. People usually take a step closer when they know that the attraction is mutual. They want something to bloom out of it. Doyoung wants it, too. It is apparent in the way he jostles awake during some nights, hair damp, panting to the image of Jaehyun and his beautiful eyes. He feels the desire for Jaehyun’s hands on his body. It only makes Doyoung crave. He wants, but cannot afford to allow himself to reach out for it.

When it comes to Doyoung, however, there is an apparent shift. Reaching for a cigarette feels difficult, not when it reminds him of Jaehyun on the rooftop. Not when he hears the words clearly as if they were spoken yesterday. His smoking dwindles down from at least three times every week to once. Soon enough, he realizes that the constant trembles in his fingers, itching for something, are certainly not because of the abrupt change in habit. Somewhere after the day Jaehyun has looked as if he wanted to kiss Doyoung, it has stopped being about taking a drag out of a cigarette to make the jitters stop.

Being human comes with the ability to remember the bad memories longer than the good ones. Thus, Doyoung keeps hearing the golden boy whimper, keeps thinking of a young life shut out by his own safe place, and the anxiety returns. It is the only thing holding him back from clasping his fingers around Jaehyun’s wrist to pull him in and kiss him senselessly. In this life, Doyoung wonders if he is destined to live this way, forever wallowed in his own fear and misery.

 

 

The unusual calm that runs from the end of autumn almost to the start of winter break can only mean one thing. There is a storm brewing somewhere in the distance. The gossip surrounding Jaehyun dissipates gradually, especially near the end of the term, until the point where Doyoung briefly wonders if Jaehyun has adapted a new persona altogether. That is not true, however, so Doyoung guesses people either got bored of riling Jaehyun up or scared of his hits.

During one week, Jaehyun does not bother showing up in school at all. Not that Doyoung should be paying attention to Jaehyun’s stagnating attendance record, but he cannot help his heart bristling at yet another day with no sight of the boy. It is almost bad when Doyoung takes a detour to the town square several times that week, in hope of spotting Jaehyun somewhere around the corner, but it is to no avail. He seems to have vanished off the face of Earth, but Doyoung knows everyone would have talked by now if someone moves out of town. No one mentions anything. Nor do they seem to mind a missing Jaehyun as much as Doyoung does.

And then, Jaehyun returns as the last week of the term begins. It is also the same day the storm makes itself known. In the morning, Doyoung catches Jaehyun’s eyes when he enters the empty bathroom as the other comes out. There’s nothing remotely different about the boy, and yet, Doyoung flushes when Jaehyun eyes him up and down, gaze heavy. In return, Doyoung mumbles a faint greeting and locks himself into the nearest cubicle, where he comes to the thoughts of a dimpled smile and sharp eyes. Doyoung bathes in the high afterwards, almost not hearing the sound of the bell ringing. He has missed the whole duration of his lunch break.

After lunch, Jaehyun does not come to any of his afternoon lessons. There is a loaded tension hanging over the whole school, everyone carrying obnoxious whispers and sharing hostile looks. Doyoung knows, by instinct, that something has occurred under the time he spent in the bathroom. Yet, no one says anything, as if the matter is too worthless to be uttered aloud. Their eyes speak louder than words, though, and Doyoung reads disgust as well as horror amongst other things. He walks straight home after school, not bothering to find out about the new rumor that has blown up. It is surely of Jaehyun. He does not want to hear. Not yet.

What he does not know is that it is, for once, something true. Ironically, he finds out through his father before he even learns about it from his classmates. When the only thing filling up the dining room is the sound of cutlery against porcelain, the man clears his throat, speaking up in a disgruntled voice.

“I heard some interesting news about that Jaehyun from our neighbor today.”

This makes his mother perk up in interest. Doyoung involuntarily freezes in the middle of cutting a piece of meat, reaching for his water cup to cover for the slip-up.

“Apparently,” his father speaks in a tone that says he is nothing but revolted, “that kid likes boys. Can you believe? He goes around and hits people, and on top of that, he likes boys. A devil, that’s what he is.”

Doyoung’s blood runs cold at the indignant gasp leaving his mother’s lips. In an attempt to soothe his own nerves, he discreetly curls his fingers around both knees until the knuckles turn white. They start talking about Jaehyun, but all Doyoung can hear is the bad words directed at the innocent boy. It is the same scene that happened years ago. History is repeating itself, and the only thing unchanging in the middle of it all is the fact that the real devil is Doyoung. He who soaks himself in the fantasies of his body against that of another boy, of lips moving against one another. Of filthy hands, and equally filthy deeds. The crucifix burns where it hangs in between his collarbones. He drops his cutlery, knowing that the more he eats, the more it will come back up later on.

When reality returns, he notices his parents looking at him with indecipherable expressions.

“H-he -” he starts, coming up with nothing. What can he say? That he agrees with everything they have said? That he would never let him come close? They feel like a lie. They already are.

His silence has been nothing but lethal, harming the very person he had wanted to keep safe. In a split moment, he decides that although he has lost golden boy back then because of his foolishness, he does not want to lose Jaehyun this time.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, “he is a good person. He cares for his family. He doesn’t do anything illegal. Unless someone provokes him first, he doesn’t fight anyone. He is not a delinquent. Not in my eyes.”

 _He is a better person than I will ever be_ , his mind supplies.

There are various emotions flashing across his parents’ faces. Anger. Shock. Disappointment. Betrayal. Nothing that fazes him the slightest. This is the first time Doyoung has ever spoken this brazenly, and it is for the sake of a boy. The infamous Jaehyun, to make the matter worse. He continues despite everything. “Jaehyun liking boys does not make him any less worth of a person. Please don’t speak so harshly of him.”

The tight grip of his mother around the eating knife quitely frightens him, but Doyoung stays seated, his eyes defying.

“You talked to him, didn’t you?” she yells. “I told you to stay away. He’s a bad influence. Look at what he did to you.”

 _You are not our son_ , says the underlying tone in her voice.

It hurts, but keeping the words to himself was hurting worse. He excuses himself from the table, blatantly ignoring his mother’s hysterious skrieks and his father’s stern voice telling her to quiet down in fear of the neighbors hearing. The night turns freezing as he falls asleep, anxiously, to the thought of tomorrow.

 

 

Exactly like back then, people point their fingers. They talk ruthlessly when Jaehyun passes by, not bothering to cover up their voices. However, Jaehyun is different than the boy from years ago. He stops in his track and pins them down with a stare. It works, because they look away and only whisper again once Jaehyun is out of earshot. If Jaehyun was treated like a mere delinquent before, now he is a criminal in this town. Someone to be spat on. A filthy piece of being amongst the supposedly pure inhabitants who pray way too much for a divine whose existence remains debatable. Doyoung has to laugh. They know too well to themselves that no one is an angel here, trapped in this hell, but they find comfort in having a scapegoat who bears all their sins.

Jaehyun, though, he does not care. This only reinforces what Doyoung believes in. Jaehyun is not afraid of something he stands for, in contrast to Doyoung who falls asleep to the anxiety of being caught when he wakes up. Even as an onlooker, he cowers from the aggression radiating off Jaehyun’s surroundings. He thinks he would never be able to handle being the center of that attention himself. He asks himself if there is anything he could do for Jaehyun. But the moment he recalls the cold shoulder given to him by his own parents and the hollow looks, his heart rate spikes. He runs away once again.

Jaehyun finds him standing on the rooftop. Doyoung knows he makes a dramatic posture, having his body leaned against the cement railing and staring soullessly down on the empty, white school yard. Doyoung hears him before he sees him. There are feet scuffling against the thin layer of snow covering the ground before chocolate hair appears in his peripheral vision.

“Wanna try?”

Doyoung lifts the cigarette hanging from his fingers as an offer, knowing that Jaehyun would reject it. What he does not expect is for Jaehyun to pluck it from his hand and throw it onto the ground, before stepping on it with his sole. There is a playful look in Jaehyun’s eyes as Doyoung scowls deeply at the aspect of a good smoke going to waste.

“Where were you last week?” Doyoung prompts instead.

Jaehyun has the audacity to smile brazenly. “Worried about me?”

“Yes.”

Doyoung goes for the truth. He is sick of lying, sick of keeping the words at bay, buried under a false layer of indifference. At that one word, Jaehyun’s cheeky smile dwindles into something raw, its edges losing sharpness. His surprise is as real as Doyoung’s answer. His cheeks are of a pretty, pink color.

“My mom fell sick, so I had to stay home to take care of her.”

“Oh, I see.”

The harsh cold is infiltrating his lungs, but it is Jaehyun who fills his veins with a warmth that threatens to spill over at the slightest curl of the lips.

“Are you okay with me being here?” Jaehyun then asks, stretching his arms horizontally over the railing. The words feel like a deja-vu of their previous meeting. “Aren’t you scared of being seen with me?” He says it lighty, and yet, Doyoung can hear the tint of doubt seeping out with each word.

This time, Doyoung actually thinks it out thoroughly. Of course, he is scared. He knows he is not as tough as Jaehyun is. Words break him. Rejection is even worse. Rejection by his own town, his own parents, his own home combined with nasty, brutal things spat out at him in spite. Doyoung would rather go through hell ten times than to suffer through that. But in this moment, with Jaehyun staring at him with an expectant gaze in his eyes, he becomes the reason for flowers sprouting in Doyoung’s heart. He looks like all the things Doyoung has ever wished for in life.

“No,” Doyoung whispers, voice a little broken. “I’m not. I’m not scared.”

Everything happens so quickly. One moment they are standing side by side, and in the next, Jaehyun has one hand wrapped around Doyoung’s necklace, drawing him in. The crucifix looks like it belongs there, trapped in Jaehyun’s palm. Their faces are barely inches apart, Jaehyun’s words coming out as white smoke on Doyoung’s mouth. In this close of a proximity, Doyoung can see the bruises and the cuts much better.

“Hey, do you know what they say about me?”

Doyoung swallows. He knows, but he waits for Jaehyun to continue anyways.

“They call me a fag. A freak, that’s what I am. That’s what I’m reduced to. I have always thought I would never belong here, but it’s clearer now. This place is hell, and every step burns. It’s an ugly kind of fire. It’s obvious in their eyes that they are scared. Scared of me muddying them. Scared of me making them acknowledge something personal they are too much of a coward to acknowledge themselves.”

The only sound that can be heard is their heavy breathing. Doyoung keeps his gaze firmly locked on Jaehyun’s, reaching out his arms to sling them around Jaehyun’s neck. He settles his back onto the cement railing, pulling Jaehyun’s body flush against his. The feeling is electrifying, sending fireworks exploding in the back of his mind.

“But you,” Jaehyun says, leaning in to nose at Doyoung’s jaw, one hand still firmly holding onto Doyoung’s necklace and the other a warm sensation on his waist, “you’re different. You’re scared too, but you're not scared of me. You’re scared of yourself for wanting me.”

The words make Doyoung moan. A lewd sound, frozen into something solid in the cold air. He is about to cover his mouth in sheer shock when a hand shoots up to grab at it, and Jaehyun pulls him in the last few inches through his necklace - the motion too blasphemic for what is about to happen. Their lips meet in a rough kiss. Jaehyun’s mouth is hot against his; so is his body. Soon enough, Doyoung is parting his mouth, letting him lick into it and Jaehyun readily swallows the moans escaping past Doyoung’s lips. The promise that he would never allow himself to be with a boy again becomes forgotten, just like that. Jaehyun makes his weaknesses feel like his strengths. He strips Doyoung off all his fears with each kiss, each touch of his. When they part, there is a string of saliva connecting their lips, filthy yet arousing. Jaehyun looks wrecked. He looks like an angel who has lost his way in hell, and hell is where he would rather be.

In that second, Doyoung falls. He tightens his arms around Jaehyun’s neck, pressing his body closer to Jaehyun’s, searching for friction in the freezing weather. In turn, Jaehyun leans down under his jaw, trailing soft kisses up and down the side of his neck. Doyoung whimpers, ragged breathing coming out irregularly.

“I know you want me,” Jaehyun whispers against his neck, “Yesterday, I heard you in the bathroom. You think you were being quiet, but to me, you’re the only sound I can hear.”

Time stops when Jaehyun plants another kiss on his skin. All that passes Doyoung’s mind is the desire to tell Jaehyun to never stop.

“I want you,” Jaehyun says. “I want to hear you say that you want me too.”

“I want you,” Doyoung repeats like a prayer, because Jaehyun is his God. “I want you so much.”

Doyoung feels ruined. He feels untangled, whereas Jaehyun looks awfully pleased when he leans back to take a proper look at him, dimples visible on his sinful face. “Good, because I won’t let you go now.”

 

 

It is a piece of cake to fall into a routine after that. Somewhere in his memories, Doyoung remembers reading about the story of Jekyll and Hyde. A good-hearted doctor called who is incapable of refusing the elixir that brings about the most brutal and vulgar sides of him. It tells about the essence of being human. The balance between good and evil, and how one can easily be lured into falling into the depth of hell. Being human is not something tolerated in this town. Doyoung conceals that tainted part of him, saves it for when the sun has hidden itself behind the tree tops and he is alone with Jaehyun, hands hot on one another. He feels like Jekyll, and Jaehyun the elixir that draws out his most hidden, twisted sides.

In the morning, however, Doyoung is his parents’ modest son who studies to graduate with honors. He is an inhabitant in this tiny, stuffy town. It is almost scary how easy it becomes for him to switch between two personalities, a mask of naivety and youth painted over the face of a sinner. A deviant.

But everything eventually comes to a downfall. The truth is the truth because it will reveal itself, sooner or later. When Doyoung steps down the stairs that one winter morning, his mother is waiting for him at the door, arms crossed over her chest. There is a displeased expression turning sour on her face, but Doyoung does not stop until he is addressed. Her voice is icy, piercing through him.

“Where do you keep disappearing to nowadays? It’s winter break. You don’t have school.”

Doyoung turns around, gaze indifferent. “To a friend.”

“Which friend?”

He tries to calculate her look, but fails. Her voice is raised when she speaks up again. “It isn’t that boy, right? Tell me you’re not his friend. I’ve told you so many times - ”

“It’s him,” Doyoung cuts her off mid-sentence. “Jaehyun is my friend, and I won’t stand by watching you badmouth him again when he’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“Kind?” she almost yells. “What did you guys do? Doyoung, he’s evil. He likes boys, for God’s sake. He will fool you into some ridiculous belief with his words. He will teach you nothing but bad things.”

“Then let him.”

A long tense silence goes by before anyone says anything. His mother stays shocked in her frozen shell, eyes round. Her fingers are trembling, Doyoung notices.

“W-what did you say?” she asks slowly, enunciating every word.

“I said,” he repeats, also spelling out each syllable, “let him. Let him teach me, because I want to know. I want to learn. Everything.”

Today, something breaks within him. He is not sure what, but his mask is crumbling right in front of him and there is nothing he wants to do to salvage it. Before he can properly register the weight of the situation, the hit comes unexpectedly. He turns his head to the side from the impact, feeling the fresh sting on his cheek. The taste of iron flows out onto his tongue, but he swallows every drop, clicking his jaw.

When he finally meets his mother’s gaze, he sees realization written all over her face, and she is not doing much in trying to cover up the disgust welling up within her. It is rather surprising how Doyoung has lived his life in fear of this exact moment, but when it actually does happen, the anticlimax of it all throws him off. Now that his secret is out, he is no longer able to patch it up again. No amount of band-aids could stop the blood from pouring out. It gets all over the place. At least she will not be able to say a thing about Jaehyun again, knowing Doyoung exists. She knows of his sins, and his chest bursts with satisfaction.

“You can go ahead and tell everyone,” Doyoung spits out, already halfway out the front door. “I may be made an outcast, but it won’t be to the price of me and only me."

His mother breathes heavily, hands balled into fists. Yet, she does not follow him. Her eyes flash with fury, pupils trembling. Doyoung turns around one last time, expression devoid of emotions. “Do you know why we fear fire? Because something that has caught fire won’t stop until it has turned everything in its vicinity into ashes.”

Her miserable cries echo in the background as Doyoung lets the door shut behind him. For a second, he almost feels bad until his cheek starts throbbing and he forgets about it altogether. His feet take him to the familiar path leading to Jaehyun’s house.

Jaehyun welcomes him with open arms, licking hungrily into the roof of his mouth. His hands are everywhere, but it is not enough. Doyoung wants more. He greedily craves everything. It is then that Jaehyun notices the redness on Doyoung’s cheek reflected under the dim light in his room, eyes widening in shock. Doyoung, though, he gently shakes his worries off and leans in for another kiss to forget the pain. Jaehyun looks like he is about to protest, but whatever he wants to say dies on the tip of his tongue when Doyoung straddles his hips in the middle of the kiss. They moan simultaneously. It is twisted how Doyoung is kissing the reason why he even got hit to begin with, getting hard at the mere thought of it.

Doyoung presses closer, trying to melt into Jaehyun’s body. He kisses every expanse of skin he can reach, hands traveling curiously up and down Jaehyun’s body. Jaehyun’s muscles tense involuntarily under his fingers; Doyoung feels his pants getting tighter upon thinking about how hot Jaehyun looks under him. A statue sculpted out of finest marmor, banned by the heavens but desired by hell.

The moment is cut short, as Jaehyun lays his hands on Doyoung’s waist and flips the both of them over. He maneuvers Doyoung until the latter is settled completely under him on his bed, trapped in between his arms and legs. He leans down again, and Doyoung already has his mouth wide open. Their kisses are more often than not messy, but this one is chaste. Doyoung’s heart races at the speed of light.

Jaehyun grinds down on him, and Doyoung sees stars behind his eyelids. His hand closes around the crucifix and in one swift motion, he tears the necklace off. The string breaks, soon thrown haphazardly across the floor. Jaehyun is sporting a grin filled with amusement when Doyoung looks back at him.

“You’re an enigma,” is what he says. Doyoung smiles, hands threading into Jaehyun’s soft, brown locks.

“Says you,” he returns easily. “Kiss me again.”

And Jaehyun, he complies to each and every one of Doyoung’s request. Jaehyun, despite his rough temper and his tendency to get into hefty fights, is made up of something rather fragile, edges soft at one’s fingertips. He puts his heart on his sleeves when he smiles down on Doyoung, something which Doyoung finds endearing. Meanwhile, Doyoung is a diplomatic person who prefers not to see too much blood, but his actions when he touches Jaehyun betray the purity plastered on the expression he wears when he looks at the rest of the world. He is a devil in disguise with his innocent eyes and his angel, who holds the gaze of a beast, is beauty personified.

Shortly after, their shirts are discarded on the floor. Doyoung’s eyes drink in every detail, carving the image of Jaehyun’s body into his memories. With fingers fumbling to unbutton Doyoung’s jeans, Jaehyun leans in close enough for Doyoung to feel his exhales.

“Are your parents aware, Doyoung?” he says. “Tell me, do they know? Do they know that their son is nothing but a devil, whose mouth smells of cigarette smoke?”

Doyoung is glad that Jaehyun is aware who the devil between them is.

“Do they know where his hands have been touching?” Jaehyun continues, fingers a scalding heat when he wraps his hand around Doyoung’s cock. “Do they know that he has kissed another guy? Do they know that he enjoys doing it?”

And Doyoung moans, both at Jaehyun’s hand on him and at the words Jaehyun says. The filthy sound is a burning reminder, tearing at his skin, but Jaehyun looks like he is in heaven, his eyes filled with only worship. “God, Doyoung, look at you.”

To be honest, Doyoung thinks he can almost come untouched just by seeing Jaehyun like this. But he wills the heat pooling in his stomach to subdue, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck and pulling him down for yet another sloppy kiss. Jaehyun’s hand keeps stroking Doyoung, moving up and down the shaft. Eventually, Doyoung hovers a hand over Jaehyun’s, making him stop. His eyes are glossy when he looks at the bewildered stare Jaehyun sends him.

“I want you,” Doyoung whispers, partly shocked by the intimacy in his own words. “I want you inside me.”

As usual, Jaehyun listens to Doyoung. He nods before reaching over to his drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube. Jaehyun seems to be searching for something that is not there, which is apparent when he turns to Doyoung. “I have no condoms.”

Doyoung shakes his head firmly. “It’s my first time, Jaehyun. Are you clean?”

He watches as something carnal spreads all over Jaehyun’s face, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Jaehyun schools his face into a neutral expression, leaning down to peck Doyoung’s lips sweetly.

“Yeah,” he replies, a little breathless. “I’m clean. Thank you for trusting me.”

Doyoung believes he would trust his whole life in Jaehyun’s hands.

As sloppy as their kisses become, Jaehyun hurriedly lathers the lube onto his fingers before he pokes one at Doyoung’s rim. At first, he is met with resistance. As a way of distraction, Jaehyun kisses him again, tongue darting out to taste the sweetness in Doyoung’s mouth. When he parts from the kiss, the glide becomes easier and soon enough, he has three fingers pushing past his entrance. Jaehyun studies the expressions flitting across Doyoung’s face, and Doyoung lets him. He wants to give Jaehyun everything. He wants him to have him the way he wants.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asks concerned, to which Doyoung nods numbly, mind too clouded with lust to form a comprehensive sentence. Now that he has gotten a taste of how it feels to sin, it feels way too good to return to the life he used to have.

Supporting his weight on his elbows, Doyoung leans up slightly, head angling to whisper in Jaehyun’s ears. He holds a low tone when he says, “Fuck me. Hard.”

The carnal look brewing in Jaehyun’s eyes is back, this time more intensified than ever. He snarls, a growl coming deep down from his throat, as he strokes Doyoung’s cock that was previously lying hot against his stomach again and Doyoung moans, arching his back off the bed. Jaehyun strips off the rest of his clothes, pouring more lube onto his hand before he strokes himself to full erection. Doyoung looks on with lidded eyes, hands greedily wandering across every surface of Jaehyun’s body.

When Jaehyun positions his cock at Doyoung’s entrance, he lets Doyoung wrap his arms around him, whispering sweet nothings into Doyoung’s ears in order to soothe the other’s nervous breathing. He waits until Doyoung has relaxed completely before he slides in all the way, and then Doyoung tenses once again at the sensation of his hole being stretched out to the maximum. It hurts, it feels like his insides are protesting, but he takes the pain in strides, burying his face in the crook of Jaehyun’s neck. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to loosen up. Next to him, he hears Jaehyun groan. Yet, Doyoung admires the control Jaehyun holds when he does not move, opting to wait for Doyoung to give a signal.

After a while, the pain is as much as nonexistent. Doyoung feels another emotion taking over, but before he can pinpoint what it is, he kisses Jaehyun as a sign for him to start moving. Jaehyun responds immediately, sighing into the kiss with saliva dripping down into Doyoung’s mouth. Then, he starts thrusting in a steady slow rhythm that picks up in pace the more he does. There is something filling up Doyoung’s lungs, but it is not cigarette smoke. It is not as harmful, but Doyoung is drowning in it nonetheless. He moans, fingers either clawing at Jaehyun’s back or pressing into the toned muscles.

Never would he have thought having another boy filling him up would feel this good. They are so close, no space left between a layer of skin on another. Doyoung thinks that at some point, they could melt into one and the same person. Jaehyun drinks in the sounds Doyoung lets out with ease, one hand brushing tenderly at his damp hair despite his rough thrusts.

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung repeats his name over again, his moans turning more broken and more lewd the quicker Jaehyun snaps his hips. He finally settles his hands on Jaehyun’s shoulders, and Jaehyun’s hands are placed gently on his waist.

With one last thrust, Doyoung comes untouched; white, hot strings land on his stomach and some on the bed. Sensing as if Jaehyun is about to pull out, Doyoung stops him, eyes filled with something that convinces Jaehyun to stay put. He feels warmth inside him when Jaehyun comes with a moan, almost falling atop of Doyoung for a second. Instead, he settles down beside him, after pulling out and giving Doyoung a quick peck on his lips. Doyoung grimaces slightly when he feels cum dripping out of him, but it is admittedly something he does not mind doing more often.

Even lying there in their own cum, gross and sweaty, Doyoung decides that he enjoys this newfound feeling, whatever it is.

“How do you feel?” Jaehyun asks, hand finding Doyoung’s easily, intertwining them.

Doyoung is smiling brightly when he meets his eyes. He answers, voice hoarse, “Peachy.”

They meet in a slow, sweet kiss, tongue sliding languidly against tongue and Doyoung pretends that nothing in this world can get to him, as long as he lies there, wrapped inside Jaehyun’s warm embrace.

The streets are covered in a new layer of white when Doyoung kisses Jaehyun goodbye behind the front door that afternoon, after having showered and lain with him in bed, talking half the day away. The knowledge that their conversation flows easily with no barriers, whether it be physical or emotional, left between them has made Doyoung’s chest expand with yet another unexplored feeling. He knows he wants Jaehyun, that is for sure, but it gets worse when he wants to keep laying his head on his shoulder, holding his hands and baring to him all his vulnerable sides. It is a new territory, and perhaps, Doyoung thinks they are too young to be wandering out on strange terrain. Somewhere during the early afternoon, Jaehyun’s mother had returned from her morning shift. Initially, Doyoung had told Jaehyun to sneak him out the window, but Jaehyun refused to let Doyoung jump down from the first floor, which resulted in Doyoung having to meet the woman whom Jaehyun looks at as if she has hung the stars for him. Envy simmered in his stomach when he watched on as Jaehyun’s mother doted on her son, boasting a wide smile with dimples showing. He had kicked himself mentally before he could start thinking about his own family. She acts as kind as ever to her guest, although she probably has her own suspicions that her son and him are everything but platonic friends.

Doyoung’s shoes leave fresh imprints onto the newly fallen snow on his porch when he arrives home. The house is eerily quiet; the ghosts would not even dare to haunt this place in this atmosphere. The most surprising thing happens when he goes down to the dining room by dinner and sees his parents already seated there, with nothing on their faces that betray their inner thoughts. His father is a crude man, who does not hesitate to speak of harsh words in front of his son if he were to know. Yet, he remains silent, chewing peacefully. So does his mother.

In that moment, Doyoung understands. The look he sends his mother and the one he gets in return tell him that this is something that stays between them. As much as his mother is choked up by disgust for having a son like him, she would rather protect her dignity and her image as a perfect housewife from a life in shame. Doyoung remains her dirty little secret. He bites his tongue until he tastes blood, and looks down onto his lap during the whole meal. His thoughts are loud, exploding inside his head, but the silence in this house is even more deafening, drowning out everything.

Beggars are not choosers. They will never be.

 

 

“Doesn’t your mom worry?”

Doyoung holds Jaehyun’s hand in one of his own, caressing the damaged knuckles gently. They are lying in bed, Jaehyun’s naked, sweaty figure his own heater. Doyoung wishes he could be fine with it by now, but his concern for Jaehyun’s well-being is not something easily dismissed.

The night had ventured into a treacherous hour by the time Jaehyun came with a muffled groan that Doyoung kissed away with ease, before slumping down beside Doyoung with a tired smile. Somewhere between the small talks, Doyoung is struggling to keep his eyes open, cigarette smoke fresh in his lungs. For it is late, a time where everyone has long since fallen deeply into the arms of their corn-syrup sweet, heated dreams and the ticking hands of the clock have long ceased their endless game of tag for the day. Somewhere in the far distance, an owl howls bitterly, pupils scanning the silent town while time stays on standby, its heart beating in rhythm with its sleeping people.

It is also when Doyoung feels the most vulnerable and emotional, always asking and telling too much. He is lucky Jaehyun is there, ready to accept and give anything Doyoung desires.

“She does,” Jaehyun says, “but she is used to it by now. She knows I do it to protect the people in my life. I would never hit someone for fun.”

With a hum, Doyoung turns his body to face the other, hand reaching up to lie tenderly on his cheek. The contact burns, heat transmitted from one body to another but he does not know where it starts and ends.

“I know you don’t,” Doyoung returns.

 _You’re an angel_ , he adds to himself. _A fallen angel is still an angel._

“Am I so different from the others?” Jaehyun whispers in a quiet voice, grabbing at Doyoung’s hand on his cheek as if telling him not to let go. “Why is it always my family that everyone has so much to say about? Why am I always the bad guy, when they ran their mouth first?”

At times, Jaehyun looks at the world that has turned its back on him with pure hatred in his eyes, and Doyoung cannot find it in himself to chide him for that. Even when people only see the piercing gaze of a beast belonging to Jaehyun, Doyoung sees instead Jaehyun’s heart, made of hardened glass. He feels Jaehyun’s light feather touch when he holds him. For Doyoung, there is no other place safer than here. Smoking used to grant him the little freedom he needs to keep on surviving, but right now, Jaehyun has replaced it. The boy frees him of his worst nightmares - he is dopamine with his sugar kisses and honey laughter. And if Jaehyun is twisted then Doyoung is bent and contorted a hundred times over. Either way, they are two souls tainted beyond the point of repurification.

Doyoung shifts closer, lips brushing against Jaehyun’s lightly. He feels the other part his lips at the peck, but Doyoung leans back to whisper in the dark room. The moonlight casts an obscene shadow over half of Jaehyun’s face where he lies with his back to the tiny window. In that moment, he resembles a divine creature more than anything.

“It’s not a sin to be different. You’re special, Jaehyun. It’s never a sin to be special.”

Perhaps Doyoung is no longer sure if the words are meant to be directed at Jaehyun or at himself. He finds solace soaking in them anyways. Jaehyun has taught him to not be afraid. Maybe there will come a day when Doyoung can return the favor.

When a comfortable silence has settled over them both, Doyoung buries his face into Jaehyun’s chest, reveling in the familiar warmth. He feels a kiss on the top of his crown, and he smiles, fingers drumming playfully along Jaehyun’s side. Sleep comes easy during this kind of night, but Doyoung has one more thing left to say before he lets it take over.

“Jaehyun,” he begins, hearing an acknowledging hum vibrate in the other’s chest, “how did they find out that you likes boys?”

Jaehyun runs his rough hands up and down the expanse of Doyoung’s back, making him shiver despite the heat radiating from the fingertips. “Some idiots were talking about you after lunch that day when I came back to school. Speculating that you may like boys, judging from your disinterest in girls ever since middle school. I happened to be passing by when I heard them start assuming stuff and spouting rude nonsense in general, so I defended you. I couldn’t do it without outing myself, I guess.”

This adds another point onto the long list of why Doyoung is indebted to Jaehyun an amount equal to the worth of his own life. The first point on it, written in bold, black letters, says that Jaehyun sees _him_ and not the person Doyoung pretends to be. He sees through him. It is already enough for Doyoung to never being able to pay off what he owes him.

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung whispers, voice drifting off at the end.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaehyun says. “I would still have done the same, knowing the consequences. It’s because it’s you. You’re worth the trouble.”

With laughter bubbling within him, he snuggles closer into Jaehyun. Into the sheltering heat. “Did you punch them at least?”

“You bet.”

He hears the satisfaction evident in Jaehyun’s tone, and this time, he manages a tiny, sleepy laugh. As Doyoung drifts in and out of consciousness, he thinks he hears Jaehyun speak again. It is a familiar phrase, but he is unable to snap up the words, mind muddled from drowsiness. A three-word sentence that Doyoung would have heard if Jaehyun has said it a little sooner, and somehow, he knows deep down Jaehyun will not repeat it the next morning, instead pretending to act dense. But he lets it pass anyways. They are yet too young, hands fumbling at buttons and at skin in hot desire. Those words - whatever they are - can wait. After all, the future holds the promise of a long time filled with all of their short moments.

Doyoung is not too worried. He falls asleep to Jaehyun’s fingers gently stroking his hair.

 

 

There are, to say the least, different types of deviance. In short, there are different ways to be different. Doyoung is one way, and Jaehyun is another. Labelling theory states that once a person has been labeled a certain way, people in their surroundings start behaving towards them in a way that confirms or reinforces the label. After a while, it becomes easier for the individual to accept the label given to them than to prove it wrong. That is, in a way, Jaehyun.

People kept expecting him to go down the wrong path after his father had left, so eventually Jaehyun ended up doing exactly that. Because it was a hassle to prove them otherwise. Because it was easier to put up a brave front and act reckless than to break down in front of those watching eyes. However, in the moments after sex where they are laying their hearts bare open, Doyoung sees fragments of the Jaehyun who only wanted a normal life but would never be able to have it fully, and he grieves for him. Whenever Jaehyun catches him smoking on the school rooftop, sheepishly plucking the cigarette from his hand and kissing the protest rising out of him away, Doyoung only sees a beautiful boy looking down at him with bright, mischievous eyes. He sees a halo floating above Jaehyun’s head, and belatedly realizes that it must be the reason why sinning feels so good when he is with Jaehyun.

Jaehyun is different because everyone expects him to be that way, whereas Doyoung is different because everyone expects him to be normal. This is why, in essence, they are not the same. Strangely, he finds that fact comforting. Somehow, he decides that he is okay with it.

 

 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

>  _no angst_ in a 12k fic this is truly a milestone in my fanfic writing career. i had this idea sitting in my prompt document for so long, but that was more along the lines of "high school dojae where doyoung is the quiet one who gets influenced by the bad jaehyun" i was thinking of a simpler plot for the prompt so this story definitely took a different approach that i'm satisfied with nonetheless.
> 
> tell me what you think! any feedback is happily received ♡


End file.
